Chapter 703 - Rachel Grimond (1/2)
After what seemed like ages at last Rowan emerged from her last class of the day, Advanced Arithmancy. Not that she didn't enjoy listening to Professor Babbling, but frankly it was Monday and she was exhausted from the weekend patrol. Covering her mouth with one hand, she almost bumped into someone without her looking.
Glancing up, Rowan's eyes widen in realization as she takes a step back. The large dark chocolate-muscled figure easily loomed over her. Nodding to one of the new caretakers, Rowan says, ”My apologies Caretaker Peterson, I did not see you there.”
The tall, muscular man nods his head in acceptance causing his carefully woven braids to musically twinkle thanks to the intricate beads in his hair. ”It was no trouble at all,” the deep rumbling voice replied with a very faint accent that could still be heard.
Rowan couldn't quite place the accent, but she'd guess Trinidad or elsewhere in the Caribbean. ”Sorry, sir, and if you don't mind me asking, but which twin are you?”
Mr. Peterson flashes her an indecipherable smile showcasing his glistening white teeth. ”You'll just have to figure that out, Miss Prince,” before the man went on his way.
Rowan furrows her brows a few moments after. How did the caretaker know and recognize her name? But then again Filch nearly had all the students memorized. Perhaps, there is a specialized list of student names to memorize for the Hogwarts Caretaker. Still, it wasn't something that she felt at ease with. Then she could just be biased with a previously unknown prejudice…. She didn't believe herself above such things for she was human.
Then again, the man and his twin were squibs, who had been bitten and been cured, a muquib. They were literally a combination of the two and couldn't be a vessel. It was highly unlikely that they were Death Eater's as she'd never spotted a non-Caucasian Death Eater. It would seem that Riddle was a tad racist as well. And, whoever the Peterson twins had worked for, they clearly were the heavy muscles in play.
Letting out a sigh, Rowan glances at the time, before quickly heading down to help Severus. He still needed to talk to Lily, and she was going to replace him just for today. Still, if she was honest with her herself, she was concerned that Severus in the end wouldn't be able to go through with it.
Almost within view of classroom eleven, Rowan hears a loud cry of pain. Frowning she hurries to the source to find one of the second-year transfer students sprawled on the ground with three girls surrounding her. ”What is going on?” Rowan crisply asked.
The second-year girls all Gryffindor's glance at each other, before the ringleader takes a step forth and says, ”We were just helping her up.”
”Yeah!” All the girls chimed in agreement.
Rowan's lips twitch in an icy smile that causes all the girls to take a step back. ”Miss Dobbs,” she slowly said. ”Do you know that there is one thing I hate above all things is being lied to? It's a bully. And I can recognize one a mile away.”
”Thirty points from Gryffindor!” Rowan said to the girls horrified gasps. ”And a weeks' worth of detention with Professor Babbling. You can be assured that I will be having a word with your Head of House.”
”You can't do that!” Wendy Dobbs protested resembling her future niece, Emma Dobbs.
”You will find that I can, and I have,” Rowan crisply said. ”Now shoo, before I decide to take away more points from Gryffindor.”
The girls hurry away as Rowan waves her wand and neatly causes everything to gather itself. With a few more waves she vanishes the spilled ink and performs a general cleaning spell. Taking a closer look at the second-year girl, she notices that the girl has scraggily greasy hair and a crooked nose. There is a slight touch of yellow to her skin as if from malnourishment.
Rowan almost freezes as she recognizes the look on the girl's face. It was the gaze of Severus Snape in another life. Pushing down the wave of terror, and worry, she stiffly says, ”Miss Grimond, I take this is not the first incident. Why have you not come to either my brother or me with your concerns?”
Rachel Grimond doesn't meet the Slytherin Prefect's gaze as she mutters in a local accent similar to Hagrid's, ”I don' need any help, I'm dealing jus' fine.”
Rowan resists the irrational urge to shake some sense into the girl, but a lifetime of patterns of abuse and survival instincts would not be corrected in just a single day. ”Miss Grimond, are you a half-blood?”